Page 51 of Tears of Glass

Sighing, I send Tabs a quick message saying she’s welcome to crash here as long as she likes.

The doorbell makes me get up and grab my fluffy dressing gown. At the other side of the door is a delivery guy brandishing a slim box. “Miss Hitchin.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Sign here please.” I do, taking the box out of his hands and turning back into the flat. Peeling off a deep green ribbon, I lift the lid and unwrap some gold tissue paper. There’s a small card poked in between two delicate sheets. Just doing what I’m told! Don’t shoot the messenger. Saskia xxx

What the hell? Saskia is the Faircloughs personal assistant. It was a subject of much mirth to me that she dressed Elijah in his gorgeous suits.

I pull a sheath of black satin out of the box and watch as it unravels into a long dress, similar to the white one I wore to the ball. I stare at the tag, my heart pounding. Max Mara. Holy crap.

The bell of the door goes and like I’m stuck in glue, I wade my way back to the door. Maybe it’s the delivery man asking for the hundreds of pounds dress back.

No. It’s a different delivery guy, handing me a small box and asking me to sign. With a shaking hand I grasp the biro and somehow manage to scrawl it over the page.

This box is small, too small to be a dress. If he’s sent me that ring I’m going to explode. I pull the small cardboard lid off and find a black stone pendant settled on a grey foam pillow. It had better not be a diamond. Heart shaped, it’s simple and understated. There’s a piece of paper folded inside the box which I unfold with trembling fingers.

Not a diamond. It’s onyx, and beautiful like you, Sunshine. See you at 7:30.

Well, bloody fuck.

I stalk back to the bedroom with the dress and the box and put them on the bed, grabbing at my phone.

I’m typing. Well I don’t know what I’m typing when the bell rings again. I swear my whole way back to the door. “What?” I fling it open.

“Waitrose delivery for Miss Hitchin.” Behind the guy in the green Waitrose uniform is five crates of food. Okay. That isn’t even going to fit in my kitchen.

There is no point turning the guy away. “Yeah.” I nod with some defeat. Once the food is in, although not put away, I go back to my phone.

Faith Hitchin: This is far too much.

Eli Jones: ;-)

I try to call Abi. I could seriously do with talking this through. The kiss... everything... but she doesn’t answer.

There is another knock and I make my way back to the door. Who the hell, or more to the point what can it be now? Does Elijah think he can pay his way back into my heart? He’s got the wrong girl if that’s the case.

I open the door. “Yes?”

There’s a woman with a baby in her arms, her cheeks flushed. I really hope this isn’t a delivery of some random baby—because I’m going to have to draw the line.

“Hi, I’m Lucy. I live downstairs. Have you got water running?”

“Oh my. Shit!” I dash back to the bathroom which is now the wet room I’ve always dreamed of. Water is sloshing over the floor and pouring over the rim of the bath. “Crap.” I slide through puddle and twist the taps closed.

“You okay?” The woman’s voice filters through the small hallway.

Walking out, I try not to slip. My feet are soaked. “I’m so sorry. Is there a lot of damage downstairs?”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m sure it will dry up.” She drops a kiss onto the chunky little boy squidged in her arms. “Honestly, we’ve only lived here a few weeks. I didn’t think anyone was here because we’ve never heard you.”

“Oh. Yeah, I was away with...” For a minute I lose all words. “Work, and uh, stuff.”

She nods although it’s obvious I’m making up rubbish. She probably thinks I’ve been in jail. Her eyes are on the roses exposed beneath my dressing gown before flicking to the ink on the back of my hands.

“I haven’t been in prison.”

“Oh, no.” She flushes.